


Baby, You and Me Are Golden

by just_folie_a_deux_it



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, New Year's Eve, Smitten Ryan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 04:31:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_folie_a_deux_it/pseuds/just_folie_a_deux_it
Summary: It's New Year's Eve and Brendon decides to throw a huge party with all of their friends; Ryan is content to just be terribly, desperately head over heels in love with him.





	Baby, You and Me Are Golden

“You took your hat off, asshole!” Even through the dull hum of all the conversations around them, _and_ Lady Gaga demanding love and revenge through the speakers, Brendon’s indignant shout carries across the noise and rings angrily in Ryan’s ears.

Turning with an amused smile, Ryan spots his boyfriend pushing through the crowd of their many, many friends and stomping up to him with his arms crossed. His gold-painted lips are turned dramatically down in a displeased frown, and the sparkles around his eyes are barely visible with them narrowed so dramatically up at Ryan. Brendon had spent hours getting ready for their New Year’s party, brushing shimmer across his cheeks and sprinkling glitter over anything he could touch. The gold flakes shine in his hair, matching the lipstick he had bought months ago just for this very thing.

“Babe, the string is digging into my jaw and cutting off circulation.” Ryan murmurs as his boyfriend cocks a hip and places one hand on it.

Brendon blinks and immediately his expression softens. “Aww, baby,” he coos, gently taking Ryan’s face into his hands. “I don’t care, that hat stays on until the clock strikes Midnight or else you’re not getting laid for a week,” he whispers, twinkling lips only just brushing Ryan’s as he pushes up onto his tiptoes. "Understand?"

Ryan rolls his eyes, but nods. “Sir, yes sir,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough stick his tongue out at Brendon.

Brendon smiles brightly and pulls a cheap cardboard hat from somewhere Ryan can’t discern, and doesn’t really want to. After plopping the red foil cone on Ryan’s head and purposefully snapping the elastic string, Brendon leans up again to press a chaste kiss on his cheek. Ryan’s sure there’ll be a metallic gold print on his skin, but he can’t bring himself to be bothered.

“You know, I don’t know why I put up with your shit at all,” Ryan hums, lightly smacking Brendon’s ass through his incredibly tight leather pants.

“Because I love you so much and would do absolutely anything for you?” Brendon tries, tilting his head and looking up at Ryan with wide brown eyes that have black skillfully smudged around them. Pete had to have helped him with it, because usually when Brendon tries to do his own eyeliner he ends up looking like a goth raccoon.

Ryan snorts. “No, that’s definitely not it.”

Brendon purses his lips, considering. “Because I threw together this amazing party with all our friends and you’re having an awesome time and love me so much?”

“This hat is going to decapitate me; I assure you I’m not having an awesome time.” Ryan deadpans.

“Then it has to be my wicked skills in bed, the fact that I’ve got ass for days, and how many men would kill for a chance to get head from me,” Brendon says simply.

Ryan nods. “That’s it,” he agrees, wrapping an arm around Brendon’s shoulders and pulling him close, planting a kiss on his temple.

Brendon laughs and lightly digs his elbow into Ryan’s side. “You’re a fucking dick. I don’t know why _I_ put up with _your_ shit.”

“Because you’re incredibly high maintenance and nobody else could handle you as well as I do?” Ryan offers, tugging lightly at the little hairs at the nape of Brendon's neck.

“Nah, I could snag anyone in this room I wanted. Hell, I could snag anyone in this fuckin’ city I wanted.” Brendon grins.

“Is it because I love and cherish you unconditionally, and helped you plan your ‘amazing’ party even though you threw a glass punch bowl at me for suggesting we didn’t need so much 'pizazz'?” Ryan glances around the room.

He’d managed to convince Brendon not to actually paint their walls an iridescent gold color for the party, and in return, he’d allowed the disco ball to be hung up in the living room despite all of the obvious puns that were going to be thrown their way by everyone who walked into their apartment. He did lose the argument over reflective tablecloths and confetti, though, and when he’d tried taking down some of the vibrant yellow streamers strewn about, Brendon had graphically threatened to rip his dick off. Still, he has to admit that it does look nice now that the Sun is down and the lights are low, everything glimmering and bright; Brendon himself is breathtaking, everything around him is dull compared to his golden lips and sparkling outfit.

Brendon grimaces. “No, it’s sure as hell not that. I still think the lights reflecting off of the disco ball would look cool as fuck on gold walls.”

“It’s my giant cock, isn’t it?” Ryan says flatly.

“Oh, most definitely.” Brendon nods.

“You’re sure it’s not—”

“It’s your cock, Ryan. That’s it.” Brendon reaches up and lightly pats Ryan’s cheek, smiling sweetly.

“That’s obscene.” An exasperated voice comes from behind them.

Ryan twists around, eyebrows lifting.

Spencer is eying them disdainfully, arms crossed and chin slightly tilted up, but his clear blue eyes are smiling.

Brendon grins and disentangles himself from Ryan to step forward and push his way into Spencer’s arms. “Don’t act so shocked. We’ve said far worse in front of you before.”

“You’ve _done_ far worse in front of us before,” Jon says, stepping up and sipping at a beer in one hand.

“I didn’t hear complaining when it was happening,” Brendon shrugs.

“Probably because you were shouting ‘oh, Ryan!’ so loud,” Spencer mutters, twisting away from Brendon to take the beer Jon offers him.

Ryan can feel his cheeks heat up, and he can only hope that the low lighting around them hides the glowing red on his skin.

Brendon just laughs, unashamed and not embarrassed in the slightest. Ryan’s sure he’ll never be able to figure out how Brendon is so carefree; it seems like everyone claims that they don’t care what people think, but Brendon really is one of the few who truly means it. Ryan may wish he could be the same, but he can’t find himself faulting Brendon for his ability to simply _be_ ; instead, it just makes him all the more beautiful.

“Anyways,” Jon takes another sip of his beer. “I came to tell you that we’re twenty away from midnight.”

Brendon blinks, eyes going wide and looking wider with the smudged black lining them. “ _What?_ Already? Shit, but I haven’t even handed out the sparklers!” He cries, pushing Spencer out of his way and darting towards the kitchen.

Jon chuckles, shaking his head and lifting the green bottle to his lips. “He really hasn’t changed.”

“Since when?” Ryan asks, watching as Brendon flits around to each person and shoves a sparkler into their unsuspecting hands.

“Since ever,” Spencer snorts, taking a drink of his own beer and just narrowly avoiding Brendon as he sprints past them. “He’s been as easily excitable as a fucking golden retriever puppy since day one.”

Ryan smiles, not arguing. It’s just another thing he adores about Brendon: how passionate and spirited he is about almost everything. He’s never seen someone care so hard about so much, and as a person who found it incredibly difficult to care about anything at all for a very long time, Ryan can’t help but find Brendon’s fierce openness refreshing.

“You have got it so bad,” Jon grins, nudging Ryan with his elbow.

Ryan blinks and turns back to his friends, giving a sheepish smile. “I can’t help it, he just…” He shakes his head, giving a small, content sigh. “He makes me better.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Ryan looks up to see both men looking solemnly at him. He shifts uncomfortably, blushing. “What?”

Finally, a smile splits Jon’s face. “Dude, you are _so_ fucking gay.”

Spencer bursts out laughing, head tilting back and teeth glinting in the light. “I can just remember when you swore to me that you would never fall in love again after whatsherface cheated on you.”

Ryan huffs, glaring and crossing his arms. “I was younger then, and incredibly fragile.”

“Bitch, you’re still incredibly fragile,” Spencer smirks.

Ryan rolls his eyes. “You two are just jealous that Brendon and I have a loving, mature, adult relationship.”

“Ryan!” Brendon shouts, rushing over. “Ryan, Ryan, there’s an emergency,” He gasps.

“What? What is it, where?”

“The kitchen,” Brendon points, face contorting.

“The kitchen? Fuck, B, I told you not to leave the towels by the fucking stove, what did you do?” Ryan groans.

Brendon shakes his head. “No, I didn’t set anything on fire. Ryan, there’s no more _Capri Suns_.”

Ryan hears Jon snicker from behind his beer and he forces himself not to react. “No more Capri Suns?” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Brendon nods, whimpering. “How am I supposed to make my special New Year’s drink without the Capri Suns?”

“Bren, mixing Capri Sun and vodka together isn’t a special New Year’s drink; you make it like, every weekend,” Ryan murmurs.

Brendon whines, tugging at Ryan’s hands. “Ryan,” his bottom lip pushes out and Ryan knows he’s fucked. “I told you to buy more when you went out to get the fireworks, didn’t you get more?”

Ryan ignores the smug look he can see Spencer shooting him from over Brendon’s shoulder. “I did get more. I put them in the fridge, where they always are. Did you look in the fridge?”

Red slowly appears across Brendon’s face and he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. “Well, no. I did not. I looked in the cooler.”

“You specifically told me _not_ to put them in the cooler because you didn’t want anyone else drinking them so you could make your ‘special New Year’s drink’.” Ryan reminds him.

Brendon’s face only grows darker. “Right, well...good job. Thank you. I love you so much.” He says, quickly pushing up onto his toes to kiss Ryan before presumably heading back to check the fridge.

“You’re right,” Spencer nods, face serious. “Your relationship is incredibly adult and complex, Jon and I don’t stand a chance. We only filed our taxes jointly last week, but you two... you two have something serious.”

Ryan grits his teeth and lightly shoves at him. “Shut up, asshole.”

Jon just laughs and wraps an arm around Ryan’s shoulders, jostling him slightly. “You know we love you both, and we know you love each other. The only question is, when are you actually gonna fucking commit?”

Ryan frowns. “Commit? We’re committed. We’ve been dating for three years, if that’s not committed I don’t know what is.”

“Ry, if you like it, you gotta put a ring on it,” Jon says sagely.

Ryan swallows, feeling his cheeks grow warm again. “And how do you know I haven’t?”

“‘It’ isn’t his dick, Ryan. It’s his finger.” Spencer smirks.

Ryan knows for sure his entire face is the shade of Brendon’s favorite lipstick and he shoves Jon away. “I’m gonna!” he says defensively. “I just haven’t yet.”

“We’re not judging, it’s not like you see any rings on our hands,” Jon shrugs. “But you know he’s been waiting for ages.”

Ryan bites his lip, gaze flicking over to where Brendon is violently squeezing Capri Sun pouches into a bowl full of vodka. “I know. I just...fuck, what if I shouldn’t?”

Spencer frowns, setting his half-finished beer on the coffee table. “Shouldn’t? Why would you say that? Why shouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan shoves his hands into his pockets. “Like, he’s just—he’s so _good_ and I’m so...not.”

Spencer rolls his eyes. “I thought we grew out of our emo phases when you donated your studded belt to Goodwill.”

Ryan scowls. “I’m serious, fucker. What if he says yes, and then one day wakes up and realizes he can do so much better?”

“Dude, if he were gonna do that, he’d have done it a long time ago,” Jon says softly. “But I’m pretty sure whenever he ditched his high-paying job, and his nice apartment, and the city where his entire family was to run away here with you, he decided he was in it for the long run.”

Ryan sighs softly, almost wishing he still drank so he could have something to nurse right now. “You’re right. Fuck, and I want to. It’s just like, I look at him and I see this amazing person, this bright, shining light that is the most beautiful, celestial thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life and I think ‘How did I get so lucky?’. He’s so full of love and laughter and even though I’m always fucking up he still stays and makes me feel like I’m worth something. I don’t want to— I don’t know, trap him with me.”

“Question,” Jon says, setting his beer down next to Spencer’s. “Who was it that drove cross-country from L.A to New York when he got the flu and couldn’t come home for another few days?”

Ryan bites his lip. “Me.”

“And who was that guy that got the shit beaten out of him at that bar on El Centro because he tried to fight a guy that made Brendon cry?” Spencer asks.

“Me.” Ryan twists one of the rings on his finger around, not looking at either of his friends.

“And who went out and bought Brendon that five-thousand dollar guitar he couldn’t afford, just because Brendon wanted it?” Jon muses.

Ryan runs a hand through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Me.”

“Exactly,” Spencer says firmly. “Now, who is it that’s going to grow a pair and propose to his boyfriend that he’s so madly in love with?”

Ryan takes a deep breath. “Me.”

Spencer grins and nods, walking forward to pull Ryan into his arms and hug him tight. “That’s my guy.” He murmurs, stepping back to affectionately ruffle Ryan’s hair. "I'll go ring shopping with you later, huh?"

Ryan wraps his arms around Spencer’s middle and buries his face in his best friend’s shoulder for just a moment, breathing him in. Twenty years may have passed, but Ryan’s sure that a hundred more could before Spencer could ever feel any less safe.

After a moment, Spencer steps back, smiling softly. “You’d probably better find him before he decides that he’s going to drink that ghastly concoction all on his own.”

Ryan nods. “You’re probably right.” He turns, eyes scanning over the crowd to try and find his boyfriend. After a moment, he catches sight of a glittery gold jacket making its way towards the bathroom.

“Catch you guys in a few,” he says, stepping around Jon as the other man pulls Spencer against his side, kissing his temple and handing him his beer back.

Just before the door shuts, Ryan manages to slide into the bathroom and lean back against the wall.

“Pervert.” Brendon smiles at him through the mirror, pushing a hand through his hair. Golden glitter flakes shower down and rest on his shoulders, blending right in with the shimmering blazer.

“You can’t be putting more makeup on,” Ryan laughs, folding his arms and resting them against his chest.

Brendon rolls his eyes. “Of course I’m putting more on, I’ve got to be shiny enough for the both of us, Ross, since you decided you’re too cool for glitter.”

Ryan just smiles. “I really think you pull off the gold lipstick better than I ever could, baby.”

Brendon grins. “Well, you’re right about that. But just a little sparkle never hurt anybody.” He offers up a small tin of glinting powder.

“If either one of us sparkles any more, I’m afraid we might blind our guests.” Ryan teases, reaching forward to tug lightly at the hem of Brendon’s jacket. “Where did you even _find_ this thing? It looks like you had to have snatched it from a high school theater department.”

“I’ll have you know I bought this, custom designed, for two thousand dollars.” Brendon sniffs, snatching the fabric out of Ryan’s fingers and twisting back towards the mirror to push little flakes of mascara off of his cheeks.

“Two thousand—? When did you spend two thousand dollars without me knowing?” Ryan cries, eyes widening.

Brendon smiles sweetly through the mirror, gold lips twisting. “Ryan, darling, I’ve got my own little stash of petty cash for things just like this. You have no idea.”

"Pete gave you the money, didn't he?" Ryan arches a brow.

“He understands my fashion taste far better than you ever could," Brendon says simply. "Now, you’ve got to have a _little_ flair; it’s New Year’s Eve, how can you expect to have a good year when you’re starting it off all drab and dull, in the dark?” Brendon demands, turning fully around to lean back against the counter with his arms crossed.

“Because I know that all that glitters isn’t gold?” Ryan tries.

Brendon snorts, but there’s no malice behind it. “Maybe so, but all that glitters is good, and I won’t let the love of my life start his new year off without a bang,” He says firmly, reaching out to pull Ryan closer by his collar. “If you let me make you pretty, I’ll let you make me do something too,” He purrs.

Ryan feels his insides grow warm at that and he shifts slightly in pants that seem suddenly a little tighter than they were moments ago. “Deal.”

Brendon grins and lets Ryan go so he can grab a case of something that reads ‘Sassy’ on its lid. He twists it open and grabs a brush, turning back to Ryan; their noses are almost touching. “Okay, close your eyes.”

Ryan sighs, but does as he’s told.

“I kind of like you doing what I say,” Brendon giggles, and Ryan doesn’t even have to be able to see to know Brendon looks incredibly smug.

“Don’t get used to it.” He mumbles, flinching slightly when something pushes his eyelid.

“Be still,” Brendon breathes, catching Ryan’s face in one hand. “I’m making art, here.”

Ryan’s careful to only let the smile he’s fighting back twitch at his lips. “Art?”

“Art,” Brendon says firmly, fingers lightly squeezing Ryan’s jaw.

“I thought I already was art. Are you saying I’m not pretty enough for you?” Ryan teases.

Fingers gently pat against Ryan’s eyelids and then down his cheekbones. “Ross, we both know who the pretty one is in this relationship, and we both know it isn’t you.”

Ryan can hear the smile in Brendon’s voice and he has to force himself not to smile too. “You know, if you take much longer our friends outside are going to think something sinful is going on in here.”

“If they’re our friends, they know chances are something sinful _is_ going on in here. The real shock is going to be when we both come out of here with perfect hair and untouched clothes. You can open your eyes, by the way.” Brendon adds.

Ryan’s lashes flutter and he blinks, slowly getting used to the bright fluorescent lights of the bathroom again. “Am I allowed to look?”

Brendon shakes his head, bringing a fistful of something Ryan can’t see up and then blowing it all in his face.

Ryan blinks quickly and sneezes. “The fuck was that?”

“Fairy dust,” Brendon rolls his eyes. “You can look now.”

Ryan gently nudges Brendon out of the way so he can step forward and peer into the mirror, squinting slightly. In all fairness, it’s not nearly as bad as it could be. Brendon dumped gold glitter in his hair just like he’d done for himself, but his eyes are surrounded by a sheer, iridescent color instead of the bright gold sparkles that cover Brendon’s lids. His cheeks shimmer with some sort of shiny powder Brendon put on them, and when he moves they reflect in the light.

“ _Well_?” Brendon crosses his arms, arching an expectant brow.

Ryan smiles and turns around. “I like it. Thank you for not putting gold lipstick on me.”

“As if you could ever pull it off,” Brendon snorts, rolling his eyes, though he tugs Ryan down to press a kiss to his lips. “I think you look stunning.”

“Compared to my normal troll self?” Ryan chuckles, hands sliding down Brendon’s sides to rest on his hips, the leather surrounding them cool against his palms.

Brendon grins. “Exactly. Now all you need is a sexy new outfit.”

Ryan glances down at his dark skinny jeans and white t-shirt. “What’s wrong with this?”

“It’s fucking New Year’s, Ryan, it’s a goddamn party. You can’t just wear jeans and a t-shirt and expect everyone to think you’re as hot as I do.” Brendon groans. “I mean fuck, at least put on a jacket.”

“I’ll put on my leather jacket if it’ll make you feel better? The turquoise one with the pink flowers?” Ryan tries, fighting back an amused smile. “Although I’ll have you know that I really don’t care who thinks I’m hot, except you.”

Brendon blushes and Ryan’s fingers come up to lightly trace along the heat beneath his skin. He’ll never get over how pretty Brendon looks with flushed cheeks and his lashes fanned down over his face as he looks anywhere except at Ryan’s eyes.

There’s a soft knock at the door and Brendon lifts his head, eyes widening a fraction. “Yes?”

“Ten minutes to Midnight,” Spencer’s voice comes from behind the door, muffled and almost inaudible from the noise outside.

Brendon gasps and he quickly shoves Ryan to the side so he can wrench the door open and push out into the living room. When Ryan doesn’t follow immediately, he spins back around and snatches Ryan’s hand to yank him out too.

“Bren, it’s okay, we’ve got time. All we have to do is kiss, right?” Ryan laughs, tangling their fingers together and lightly squeezing Brendon’s hand.

Brendon nods distantly, obviously not hearing a word Ryan says as he tugs his boyfriend through the crowd, weaving in and out of groups and around people, and even between a few couples. Ryan apologizes each time they bump someone or jostle them hard enough to spill their drink, a sheepish smile on his face. Most people aren’t even mad once they notice it’s Brendon, though a few shoot Ryan a glare or an annoyed glance; he can’t blame them, it’s almost impossible to stay angry at Brendon for very long.

Finally, Brendon comes to a stop in front of Spencer and Jon who are both holding glasses full of something clear that Ryan has a hunch holds vodka and Capri Sun.

“So you’re finished doing disgusting things to each other then?” Spencer asks, eyebrows lifting in surprise once he sees Ryan’s face.

“I didn’t know you had a cross-dressing kink,” Jon laughs, nodding to Brendon.

Brendon grins and pokes Ryan in the side. “Oh, I’m not the one with the cross-dressing kink. But I do have a thing for boys that will do whatever I say.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “Yep, that’s me. Obedient and submissive, please tell me, master, whatever could I do to please you?”

Jon snickers and takes a sip of his drink, blinking and giving a low whistle. “Shit, Brendon, you weren’t fucking around with this, were you?”

Brendon beams proudly, lifting his chin. “Like I said, special New Year’s drink. It’s guaranteed to get you fucked up beyond repair.”

“Yeah, and to send you to the hospital,” Spencer mutters, wrinkling his nose and setting his drink down after taking a sip of his own.

“Please tell me you haven’t had more than one of those,” Ryan turns to Brendon, tone pleading.

Brendon bites his lip, tilting his head to one side and looking around. “Well, I could tell you that. But I’d be lying.”

Ryan groans. “The last time you went to town on those I had to carry you home from Spencer’s house—which I had to walk from—because you threw up all over the cab and we got kicked out.”

“Good thing we’re already home then, hm?” Brendon winks at Ryan and bumps his hip against his boyfriend’s.

Ryan just sighs. “That isn’t an excuse to get shitfaced and leave me to take care of you.”

“I won’t,” Brendon says, lifting one hand and placing the other over his heart. “I promise, this night is all about the party, and you and me.”

Ryan narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Really?”

Brendon nods, smiling wide and pushing forward to wrap his arms around Ryan’s middle, pressing his cheek against his chest before looking up. “You’ve been so sweet, helping me plan this thing and letting me run wild and put makeup on you. Seriously, thank you.”

“Well, um, you’re welcome.” Ryan flushes, ducking his face down to press his lips lightly against Brendon’s so he can hide his red cheeks.

Brendon reaches up and Ryan can feel him gently lace his fingers in his hair, pulling him down closer.

“It isn’t Midnight, you two. Save it for the New Year,” Spencer teases.

After a moment, Ryan pulls back and glances back up, flipping Spencer off behind Brendon’s back. Spencer just grins and returns the gesture.

“We’ve got to go get ready, come on!” Brendon cries, grabbing Ryan’s hand and pulling him back through the throng of people they’d just finished harassing and towards the balcony.

“What is there even left to do?” Ryan asks, offering more apologies in between groups of people Brendon crashes into. “All that’s left is kissing when the ball drops.”

Brendon just shakes his head, not saying anything as he pushes the balcony doors open and steps out into the night. “I want it to be just us.” he breathes, turning to look at Ryan now.

There are fairy lights wound around the railing of the balcony and now they glow brightly in the dark, illuminating Brendon’s face and casting shadows that only prove to make him look that much more extraordinary. Their warm radiance makes his skin shimmer and glitter, even more so than it did back in the apartment beneath the low lights. His eyes shine, dark and wide as they gaze up at Ryan and his lips look almost like molten gold, parted just slightly. For a moment, Ryan forgets entirely where he is. He feels his breath catch in his chest and he has to force himself to exhale, blinking.

“What?” Brendon frowns, brow furrowing. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Thirty seconds!” Ryan hears from inside, followed by the sound of cheering.

“Just...you,” He murmurs. “You’re…”

Brendon’s cheeks tinge pink and he looks nervous, gaze shifting from Ryan to somewhere behind him. “I’m what?”

Ryan shakes his head, taking Brendon’s hands in his own and pulling him closer, until their chests are almost touching. “You’re...fuck, you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.”

Ryan can see Brendon visibly swallow. “W-well, yeah, I know,” He laughs, though the sound is strained.

“I’m serious,” Ryan says firmly, lightly squeezing Brendon’s hands. “You’re perfect, and I love you so fucking much. More than anyone or anything in the entire fucking universe.”

Brendon blinks, surprise flitting across his features. “Where is this coming from?”

Ryan takes a deep breath. “I think I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He shakes his head. "Actually, no, I _know_ I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re the most incredible thing I’ve ever laid eyes on and you make me feel like I must have been some kind of saint in a past life to have been given the fucking miracle that is getting to be in your life. B, I was a fuck up when I met you, and I’m still a fuck up, but you’ve made me far less of a fuck up than I ever thought was possible.”

“Ten...nine...eight...seven…!” The crowd is chanting back inside, but Ryan barely hears any of it.

“What...Ryan, what are you saying?” Somehow above all of the noise, Brendon’s whisper reaches Ryan’s ears with perfect clarity.

“Five...four…!”

Ryan drops to one knee, still keeping Brendon’s hands in his own as he gazes up at his boyfriend. The dark night sky framing his face and the stars gleaming behind him make Brendon look like some sort of ethereal being from another world. “Brendon, will you marry me?”

“One! Happy New Year’s!”

Something crashes into Ryan and he falls back, hitting the ground with a muffled _thump!_ The concrete of the balcony pressed against Ryan’s back is cold through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and he’s pretty sure he’s got a few scrapes from the way his skin is stinging now. His hat is crushed, too, the cardboard digging into the back of his head. He doesn’t notice any of that, though; he’s too focused on the mouth smashed against his and the weight of Brendon’s body pressing down on him.

Brendon’s kissing him like he’s dying and Ryan’s his only chance at survival, his fists gripping Ryan’s hair tight as if he’s trying to pull him impossibly closer. Ryan can barely keep up, though he does he damndest to kiss back with equal ferocity, his own hands firmly planted on Brendon’s hips. He can hear cheers, and fireworks going off around them, flashes of color appearing behind his eyelids. It feels like forever before Brendon finally pulls away and Ryan opens his eyes, blinking quickly.

“Is...does that mean yes?” He mumbles, voice rough as if he’s just woken up.

Brendon has tears in his eyes and they’re glittering brighter than his jacket or his makeup. “Yes,” he whispers, nodding and leaning down to press his lips against Ryan’s, softer this time. “Yes, fuck, I’ll marry you.”

Ryan laughs and struggles to sit up, one hand planted behind himself for support and the other wrapping around Brendon’s waist. “I’m sorry I don’t have a ring. This was kind of last minute,” He admits, ducking his head.

“Fuck a ring,” Brendon says, leaning down to touch his forehead to Ryan’s. “I’ll marry you in a fucking trash bag and we can exchange shoelaces for all I care. I just want to marry you, I want to be Brendon Ross.”

“Say that again,” Ryan murmurs, unable to keep his lips from curling into a wide smile.

“What? Brendon Ross? Mr. and Mr. Ryan Ross? Brendon Boyd Ross? It’ll be on all our bills, and when I renew my license I’ll change it on that.” Brendon hums, planting little kisses across Ryan’s cheeks between ideas.

Ryan gives a soft chuckle, tilting his head back and closing his eyes with a contented sigh. “Ryan and Brendon Ross.” He murmurs. “The most beautiful song.”

“Gay,” Brendon teases, nipping lightly at Ryan’s ear. “Come on, we should get back inside. It is our party, after all, I think we’d be bad hosts if we stayed out here making out on the ground.”

Ryan nods, gently nudging Brendon off of his lap. He stands, tugging his fiance— his _fiance_ up to his feet. “You’re probably right,” He says, though he leans in and catches Brendon’s mouth in his once more. “But I suppose we’ve got time, hm?”

“All the time in the world,” Brendon whispers against his lips. “Forever and ever.”


End file.
